


Falling, Catching

by ragingrainbow



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: “You know I can easily break out of this,” Geralt points out as Jaskier inexpertly twines the rope around his wrists."I know,” Jaskier says, patting Geralt’s shoulder as he finishes tying the last knot. “But you are not going to,are you?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 392





	Falling, Catching

**Author's Note:**

> Betad by silentdescant.
> 
> This is terribly self-indulgent and I'm not even sorry.

Geralt grunts in protest when Jaskier breaks away from their kiss. He reaches for Jaskier to pull him back in kissing range, but Jaskier darts out of Geralt’s reach with a playful smile on his lips.  
  
“No. Hold out your hands,” Jaskier says, sidestepping Geralt when he tries to reach for him a second time.  
  
Geralt rolls his eyes. He considers just cutting the game short - they both know Jaskier is no match for him, after all.  
  
It’s also no secret that Geralt is much more likely to just humor the bard.  
  
He raises one eyebrow expectantly as he holds out his hands.  
  
“Wow. See, I did not think you would actually do that,” Jaskier says with a triumphant grin, but the fact that he readily produces a length of rope from the bag on the floor by the bed belies his words. He had obviously considered it at least a strong possibility that Geralt would do as he asked.  
  
Geralt should possibly feel more irritation at this than he does. The fact that he _doesn’t_ feel irritated does annoy him, however.  
  
“You know I can easily break out of this,” Geralt points out as Jaskier inexpertly twines the rope around his wrists.  
  
“I know,” Jaskier says, patting Geralt’s shoulder as he finishes tying the last knot. “But you are not going to, _are you_?”

There’s a sharpness to the question that makes Geralt narrow his eyes at him. Jaskier looks back at him calmly, and they just stare at each other for a moment.  
  
Geralt can practically feel the tension between them. His cock, already half hard, is definitely interested.  
  
“We'll see,” he concedes. Jaskier grins at him and steps in to kiss him again, with Geralt’s hands trapped uselessly between their bodies.  
  
Jaskier kisses him with unfamiliar care; his kisses are usually just what you would expect, enthusiastic, frenzied, deep, a little sloppy, _overwhelming_. But he’s taking his time now, his kisses slow and thorough, overwhelming in a completely different way. 

Jaskier touches him, too, much more gently than anyone has ever touched him. His hands flutter up and down Geralt's arms - barely even a touch - becoming a bit more purposeful as they move back, concentrating on his ass briefly before running up his spine and coming to rest at the nape of his neck. 

Geralt's growing desperately hard now, but Jaskier moves when he tries to get friction against his hip. Geralt lets out a frustrated noise; not quite a whimper, but not far off. 

Jaskier pulls away just far enough for Geralt to see his feigned innocence as he asks, "Is something the matter, Geralt?" 

"I want to touch you," Geralt says. He wants to touch his own cock, too, or maybe use his hands to put the bard on his knees. 

"Well, then, as you so helpfully pointed out earlier, it would be easy for you to break free." 

It would. It really would. It would be no effort at all to get his hands free and put Jaskier wherever he wants him. He knows Jaskier would let him. 

And yet, as his eyes search Jaskier's face, something in his expression stops him. 

Jaskier winks, and leans in close enough to whisper in his ear. "Or, you could lie on the bed and let me have my way with you. I promise it will be worth it." 

Jaskier trails his fingers up Geralt's thigh as he speaks, stops just shy of touching Geralt's cock. 

Geralt _whimpers_.

He lets Jaskier guide him onto the bed. Jaskier pauses for a moment, just sits there looking at him, his eyes slowly travelling across the expanse of Geralt's body.

Geralt's not unfamiliar with people staring at him. The people he beds usually let their eyes linger on his scars, their expressions ranging from curiosity to fear. A constant reminder of what he is. 

Jaskier has never paid much attention to his scars, save for pestering him for the stories behind them, looking for heroics to write into songs. But that is obviously not what he is interested in right now. His gaze lingers instead on Geralt's leaking cock before it moves back up to his face.  
  
Geralt’s breath catches at the look on Jaskier’s face, all unguarded wonder, like he can’t believe that he really has the witcher bound and spread before him.  
  
To tell the truth, Geralt can’t quite believe it either. 

"But you are a beautiful sight," Jaskier murmurs. 

Geralt has been called many things in his life, and beautiful is not one of them. He would argue, but the heat in Jaskier's eyes stops him. His cock twitches, and Jaskiers gaze shifts back down at the movement. 

Jaskier moves a little closer, runs his fingers over Geralt's chest. Geralt gasps when he pinches a nipple, groans when he leans down to graze his teeth over the other one. Geralt’s hips thrust restlessly, meeting nothing but air. 

"Get on with it," Geralt mutters, flexing his hands against the rope. 

Jaskier moves one hand to trace the rope against Geralt's skin. The touch sends goosebumps up Geralt’s arms. 

"It's not too tight, is it?" 

"No," Geralt is quick to reassure. Even though a yes would surely have Jaskier releasing his hands.

Jaskier kisses him again. His cock nudges Geralt's shoulder as he bends over him. Geralt can smell it, that musky heat, and his mouth waters at it, his own need momentarily forgotten. 

"Let me taste you," he asks, and it's as close to begging as he thinks he'll ever get. 

Jaskier obliges, shuffling up so his cock is beside Geralt's face, one hand settling in Geralt's hair to guide him. 

The angle is a bit awkward but Geralt savours the taste of him, swirls his tongue around the head to catch the precome. 

" _Fuck_ , Geralt," Jaskier moans, his hand tightening in Geralt's hair as his hips thrust forward. 

Geralt keens, his eyes falling closed, his jaw going slack. 

Jaskier laughs above him, low and breathless. "Oh? You like that?"

He _does_ , and it takes him by surprise. Oh he knows he loves the taste of him, and the feeling of Jaskier’s cock heavy on his tongue, but he never expected to like it like _this_ , never thought he would enjoy feeling powerless. 

The only response Geralt can give is a moan as Jaskier thrusts forward again, his hand still tight in Geralt's hair. 

Geralt’s world narrows as Jaskier continues thrusting into his mouth, all his senses focused on Jaskier - on the pull of his hand in Geralt's hair, the feel of his cock nudging the back of Geralt's throat, his smell, the breathy noises he makes. 

He whines as Jaskier pulls away from him, blinking his eyes open. Jaskier is flushed, his eyes dark, his lip slightly swollen from where he has obviously bitten it.

Geralt's chest tightens as Jaskier's eyes meet his, at the way Jaskier is looking at him like he is the most important thing in the world. The emotions that well up inside him are unfamiliar. Ones most people believe witchers to be incapable of feeling. 

"Jaskier," he says. Doesn't know what else to say. 

"I want to-" Jaskier starts, then stops himself. 

"Anything," Geralt responds. He means it. His hands flex against their bindings, just to feel the rope holding him trapped. He has long since given up the idea of breaking free. 

"You- You- Can you even imagine all the things I want to do to you?" 

Geralt cocks his head to the side. "Maybe. Show me?" 

Jaskier lets out a surprised laugh. "You will be the death of me yet, Geralt of Rivia." 

Geralt grunts. He's pretty damn sure it will be the other way around, but it doesn't seem like the time to argue semantics. Especially not when Jaskier moves and _finally_ gets a hand on Geralt's cock. 

Jaskier strokes him leisurely, his other hand massaging Geralt's balls. He's unusually quiet as he does it, his gaze flicking back and forth between Geralt's cock and his face, like he's contemplating something. 

It doesn't take long for his touch to become tortuous - it's not enough for Geralt to come, just enough to keep him right on the edge. 

"Damnit, Jaskier," Geralt growls impatiently, trying to thrust into Jaskier's hand. 

Jaskier stops touching him completely instead. Geralt contemplates actually breaking free of his bonds. 

"Not yet. I want to fuck you," Jaskier says, his tone hesitant, even as his eyes steadily meet Geralt's. 

" _Please_ ," Geralt answers, and apparently he was wrong about his own capability to beg.  
  
It shocks him how much he wants it, how he’s ready to keep begging if that’s what Jaskier wants, how his legs fall open without conscious thought, his body tensing as need surges through him.  
  
“Please,” he begs again, softer this time, desperately afraid that Jaskier will actually deny him. 

Jaskier swears under his breath as he goes to retrieve the oil.

Jaskier watches him carefully as he gets back on the bed. Geralt has to close his eyes against it; he feels too exposed, like Jaskier will be able to see things he never meant to share. He startles when an oil-slick finger nudges against his hole. 

"Geralt. Are you sure?" Jaskier's voice is hesitant, and he rests a hand on Geralt's right knee. 

Geralt opens his eyes again. Looks at Jaskier, finds comfort in all the things he can read on Jaskier's face. 

"Yes," he says, voice thick with unhidden emotion. He can’t find enough strength to guard his heart right now.

Jaskier smiles warmly at him, his hand caressing Geralt’s knee. He reaches up to undo the rope, but Geralt just lets his arms fall to his sides as they are freed. 

"Touch yourself," Jaskier says, and Geralt does without even thinking about it, keeping his strokes light and slow, more a tease than a bid for release.

Jaskier stretches him carefully but quickly - almost too quickly; it's been a very long time since Geralt last did this. But he bites back his own whimpers, savouring the burn, letting it hold him off from the brink. 

It's a relief when Jaskier finally pushes into him, his body hovering over Geralt's. Geralt wraps an arm around his back to pull him down, let his weight rest on Geralt's chest, pinning Geralt in place. 

" _Jaskier_ ," he breathes, burying his face against Jaskier's shoulder, breathing him in as he feels like he's shuddering apart. He's feeling far too much all at once; much, much more than a witcher is supposed to feel. 

"So good," Jaskier murmurs, his lips warm against Geralt's temple. " _Fuck_ , so good, Geralt." 

Geralt finds himself unable to do anything but cling to Jaskier as Jaskier fucks him, but thankfully Jaskier slips a hand between their bodies to wrap around Geralt's cock. 

His climax makes him feel like he's coming undone, unravelling in Jaskier's hold, and he cries out, not even sure which words come out of his mouth, or if they are words at all. It doesn't matter any longer, because Jaskier's hold on him is far stronger than any rope, something he can't hope to break free from. 

He doesn't want to break free. Right now he can't even remember the reasons why he should. 


End file.
